


the rumble where you lay

by fiveaces



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alpha Alfie, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Tommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 01:04:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16075136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveaces/pseuds/fiveaces
Summary: It’s great, usually, their banter, and Alfie’s always enjoyed it when someone outsmarts him. With a sharp little thing like Tommy who’s got a brain that works faster than an engine, Alfie’s always on his toes. But now, he’d much rather know what’s going on behind Tommy’s pretty blue eyes, an urgent need to console him rising up in his bones.





	the rumble where you lay

**Author's Note:**

> Just something that's been going on in my head for some time :) I'm still working on 'about as bashful as a tribal dance' of course! 
> 
> If you guys have any suggestions of one shots, feel free to suggest away!
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated :)
> 
> Title is from Hozier’s NFWMB.

It’s Tommy whining softly in his sleep that has Alfie waking up. 

The omega’s pressed up against his chest, back towards him, and the clench of his fists on the sheets tells Alfie Tommy’s having another one of them nightmares: where the Jerrys are breaking through the walls and he’s got nowhere else to run but back to a troubled past. 

“Tommy,” Alfie whispers into the nape of Tommy’s neck, lips pressed against soft skin. Everything’s a blur, Alfie’s sleep dazed brain desperately scrambling for a way to help. He doesn’t know, really, what it feels like to have those types of nightmares. Hasn’t ever experienced them, and at first he’d been told it’s because he was an alpha. Later, though, after he’d met Arthur Shelby and countless other poor sods like him that drown their demons in the drink, he’d chalked himself to be one of the lucky ones that managed to get out from the War with only a physical reminder of what they’d experienced. 

Alfie just wishes Tommy’d been the same.

“Tommy, darling,” he repeats again, hushed. He turns Tommy in his arms, careful not to touch below his waist, because sometimes, the nightmares aren’t just about the War. Tommy curls further into Alfie’s chest when they’re face to face, and despite the midnight darkness of the room, Alfie sees the scrunched up face and the trembling mouth, little noises spilling from deep within Tommy’s subconscious, where he’s far more vulnerable than he lets on to be. “Sweetheart.”

Tommy lets out another whimper in response, and it isn’t until tears start clinging to the fan of his lashes that Alfie decides he ought to wake him up, half-afraid Tommy’s slipping into an entirely different realm where Alfie can’t reach him.

Gently, he starts nudging at Tommy, nosing at his hairline, both of them still laid out on their sides. “Tommy, baby, you’ve gotta wake up, yeah? Don’t want you going to nowhere without me.”

Frankly, Alfie’s got no idea what he’s saying, far too preoccupied in getting Tommy conscious and safe. Last time he’d let the nightmare go too far, they’d both woken up to deep scratches running down the length of Tommy’s forearms. Alfie doesn’t doesn’t want a repeat of that. Ever. 

It seems like forever before Tommy finally stirs, and Alfie lets out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding when Tommy blinks at him, teary eyed and shivering. 

“Alfie?” he mumbles, and his voice is thick and wet. Alfie lets out another breath, gathering Tommy close in his arms and rubbing circles down the expanse of his back. Tommy makes another muffled noise, face buried in the crook of Alfie’s neck. After a few more minutes, he speaks up, pulling away so he can look Alfie in the eye. “Had another nightmare.”

“Yeah,” Alfie says, and he peppers Tommy’s tear streaked face with clinging little kisses, heart constricting in relief over the fact that Tommy’s not as shaken as he initially thought. Tommy doesn’t shy away from the onslaught like he usually would, he holds on to Alfie instead, and shuts his eyes when Alfie starts scenting him, nosing at the soft skin behind his ear.

“I woke you up, didn’t I?” Tommy finally says after some time, and he sounds tired, far too tired than he should ever be. “Sorry.”

Alfie makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, and shakes his head. He tangles their legs together, until he doesn’t know where he begins and Tommy ends. “Don’t be. ’S not like you can control it, yeah?”

“Still,” Tommy mumbles, and then he burrows his face into Alfie’s chest again, head tucked under Alfie’s chin. “’S not nice.”

Alfie frowns, resting his cheek on top of Tommy’s head, where the hair is warm and sweet smelling, curling softly at the ends from where it’s been let to grow. Tommy’s been talking for a week or so about getting a cut, but hasn’t gotten around to it yet. Alfie’s quite glad, to be honest, because Tommy with a full head of messy curls is a sight to behold in the morning. “There’s a lot of things that aren’t nice in this world, you know. Having nightmares isn’t one of them. Like I said, it’s not your fault, love.”

Tommy makes another noise ands asks “Can you get me some water?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfie breathes, relieved that Tommy isn’t arguing. It’s great, usually, their banter, and Alfie’s always enjoyed it when someone outsmarts him. With a sharp little thing like Tommy who’s got a brain that works faster than an engine, Alfie’s always on his toes. But now, he’d much rather know what’s going on behind Tommy’s pretty blue eyes, an urgent need to console him rising up in his bones.

He gets up slowly, careful not to jostle Tommy so much who, in turn, curls tighter into himself, still shivering a bit. “Just give me a mo’, yeah?”

Tommy hums in reply, and through the blurred darkness Alfie sees his eyes squeeze shut, mouth screwed up as if in pain. It’s incentive enough for him to hurry down to the kitchen to grab a glass, dithering on whether he should make a cuppa, too. But then flashes of Tommy deep in sleep and whimpering in fear rears in Alfie’s head and he hurries upstairs as fast as he can. 

When he enters the room, he takes care to turn on the lamp, bathing the walls and the bed in an orange glow, softening up the sharp edges of night. With some gentle coaxing, Tommy sits up and takes the glass, shoulders hunched in over themselves. He’s so small in that moment, vulnerable and subdued, and all Alfie wants to do is wrap him up and keep him somewhere safe where nothing and no-one can get to him. Instead, he brings an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, careful not to make too much noise. 

“Thanks,” Tommy mutters, and leans into Alfie’s touch. His scent’s gotten calmer, and Alfie breathes it in, feels the rhythmic thud of Tommy’s heart slow down. “Sorry,” Tommy repeats and Alfie huffs out a breath, biting his tongue to hold back the _stop fuckin’ apologising, it isn’t your fault that you’re terrified for your life after everything that’s happened to you._ It wouldn’t do, being harsh when all Tommy really needs right now is soothing words and a gentle hand. 

It’s some time later, when the glass is drained and set on the side table, that Tommy speaks again. “I think I might need help.”

Alfie blinks, pulls Tommy in even closer till the omega’s in his lap, safe in his arms. “What kind of help?” he asks.

“Don’t know,” Tommy says. “Help, I guess. For me head, like.”

Alfie catches onto Tommy’s train of thought, thinks about how the newspapers have been recently blathering on and on about _psychoanalysis_ and _Sigmund Freud._ Whatever gets Tommy to sleep at night, knowing he’s safe, Alfie’s up for it. 

“If you want in, I’m in,” Alfie voices his thoughts, and nuzzles into Tommy’s sweet smelling hair. The first step to healing, Alfie’d read somewhere, was to acknowledge it. Somehow, in the space between their first meeting, and now, their mating, Tommy’s come to terms with his internal struggles. It’s going to be a long process, Alfie knows, but if it means that Tommy stops pushing back things that have long since passed and then have them surface in his sleep, he’s willing to take on whatever lays ahead.

Alfie feels fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and smiles when Tommy replies, “Yeah, I’m in.”


End file.
